Stop. It.
“Then why’d you say yes to coming?”
I turn my gaze forward. God forbid I get us into an accident because I’m staring at my stepbrother.
Formerstepbrother.Former.
“To get out. I’m sort of restricted since I don’t have a car.”
“Did you have one in San Francisco?”
As much as I fear getting close to him again, I want to understand him. I need to know why he never came for the holidays, or why he didn’t even try asking Alysa for my number to get in touch.
You could’ve gone to see him…
There’s no excuse, but he was avoiding me for what I did. I couldn’t force myself into his life if he didn’t want me there…
Could’ve gotten his number and apologized. You could’ve tried.
That inner voice of mine drives me crazy. It’s the sensible side that knows I messed up and keeps pulling the blame back where it belongs.
Right now, that’s how I’m handling everything—not just with Ayden.
“Not anymore,” he murmurs.
“I didn’t see you as the kind that didn’t drive, honestly. You were always so independent.”
He clears his throat, and it’s like the air around us goes thick. I can’t explain it, but it’s uncomfortable, especially as he begins to fidget.
“I saw the letter a few weeks ago.” Of course he changes the subject. “You were planning to move here before the accident?”
I drop my head against the window behind me, roll my shoulders back, and drum my fingers along the steering wheel. “Yup. Mom was telling me I was working too much and should spend more time withfamily.” Yes, there’s an edge to my voice. “So, I put in a transfer and was actively looking for an apartment when everything happened.”
His swallow is loud, and once again, I’m drawn to look at him. “That would’ve made them both so happy.”
“Yes…” I take a deep breath and watch him force another smile before turning to me. “A little too late.”
It’s hard to miss the falter in his lips—the slight twitch at the corners before they press firmly together. I’m guessing he catches me staring at them, because he bites the bottom one, andgoddamn it. My dick should not be jumping in my pants right now.
Please… fuck off with this attraction.
I shift, fixing my gaze forward for the rest of the drive. He doesn’t speak, and I’m honestly surprised. He always has something to say, but I understand it’s where he’s most comfortable.Notin silence.
But, to be honest, I’m terrified that if the conversation turns anywhere but positive, I’ll snap at him.
I don’t want to argue. I don’t want to get angry. That isn’t me.
The last thing anyone has ever called me is grumpy, yet Brittany has labeled me that more than once in the past two weeks. She’s blaming it on my self-imposed abstinence.
I appreciate her honesty, but if she tells me I need to get laid one more time, I’ll lose my ever-loving shit. That isn’t what I need.
Truth is, I don’t even know what I need. An endless sleep? That sounds relaxing, because right now, I’m stuck in this constant state of trying to fill a hollowness that refuses to be filled.
Brittany says it’ll take time, but how do I get over this guilt? How do I stop it from swallowing me whole?
I know it’s making me unfairly cruel to Ayden. As much as part of me wants him to hurt for staying away until it was too late, I also know I need to give him grace.
It isn’t his fault.
